


Red

by birman



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, vixx - au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birman/pseuds/birman
Summary: please note: this is an old fic I had uploaded here on ao3 some time ago under the pseud myridiel, and then taken down once I had basically left the vixx/kpop fandom and was not longer interested in keeping them up.I’m re-uploading all my vixx fics because… I don’t know, someone might feel like reading them I guess? lol, anyway have fun if you do ;)





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> please note: this is an old fic I had uploaded here on ao3 some time ago under the pseud myridiel, and then taken down once I had basically left the vixx/kpop fandom and was not longer interested in keeping them up.   
I’m re-uploading all my vixx fics because… I don’t know, someone might feel like reading them I guess? lol, anyway have fun if you do ;)

Taekwoon could always see them, ever since his earliest memories.

He didn’t mind them much at first, he thought it was normal and that everyone could see them, just like him, but he stopped talking about them and pretended it was all a joke at seven, when his mother scolded him and told him he was too old for imaginary things.  
It wasn’t until much later, when Taekwoon was in middle school, that he learned about them.  
The red threads that linked two people together for life.

He saw them everywhere he looked: most of the people he saw had thin red threads tied to their fingers, disappearing in the distance, away from them. Couples would walk hand in hand, some with their threads connecting, some instead with theirs leading into opposite directions, oblivious of that fact.  
But Taekwoon also saw people walking around with their threads cut, or so worn out that it had broken, sometimes all burnt and frayed.

Taekwoon was happy that he couldn’t see his family’s threads: he didn’t want to think that maybe his parents weren’t made for each other, or fear that his sisters wouldn’t find their perfect other half.

Taekwoon hated those threads.  
He hated the idea of not being able to choose, to be destined to a certain someone and no-one else, and maybe not being able to find true happiness in case you could never meet them.

Most of all, he knew it, he hated being able to see them.  
Ignorance is bliss, he thought every time he saw couples with threads that weren’t linked.

Taekwoon’s own thread was very long and loose when he was little, disappearing far away in soft ripples, but he began noticing that as he grew up, sometimes it would become tighter, as if the person at the other end was getting closer, pulling at it.  
Once, he was around 18, he was walking down a crowded street when his thread became tight, the tightest he’d ever seen it. Panicking, he ducked into a shop, not daring to turn around till he was sure whoever it was had walked past.

That night, he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the thread. He looked at the red ribbon dangling from his little finger, expecting something to happen, but nothing did. Could it possibly be that easy?  
It wasn’t, as he discovered the following morning. The thread wasn’t tied to his finger anymore, but instead it was wrapped around his wrist, as if it was trying to get a better hold on him.  
Taekwoon tried again: he cut and even burned it, but the thread would just wind more around his wrist and reappear, intact, a few minutes later.

Then it happened, when Taekwoon was about to graduate, one night when his friends managed to drag him out to a meeting.  
He kept telling himself, the next day, that he hadn’t been careful enough, that he let himself be distracted. That was the only reason he didn’t notice his thread suddenly getting tighter.  
He didn’t notice it till he saw that person standing in front of him, with those sparkly eyes and long nose, those plump lips and ears that gave him an elvish look.  
Jaehwan, Taekwoon’s friends introduced him.

Jaehwan was supposed to be Taekwoon’s other half, and Taekwoon was determined not to let fate rule his life.  
It proved a difficult task because, now that they had met, Taekwoon seemed to bump into Jaehwan everywhere he went.

It wouldn’t matter that Taekwoon refused Jaehwan’s every attempt to getting closer, that he tried to put as much space between them whenever they met.  
Jaehwan would never give up trying to talk to him, to know him better, despite of all the rejections.

Taekwoon couldn’t understand it. Why didn’t Jaehwan leave him alone? He didn’t want to be rude, he couldn’t possibly be rude with Jaehwan, it would be like kicking a puppy, but he tried to make him understand in every possible way.

Day after day, Taekwoon grew angrier at Jaehwan. Or rather, he grew angrier at himself, because Jaehwan was slowly worming his way past his barrier, and Taekwoon got scared. He didn’t know what to do.

And so one night Jaehwan walked Taekwoon back to his apartment because he had a little too much to drink. Taekwoon didn’t even remember what they talked about, but he must have said something mean because Jaehwan quietly whispered “You must really hate me” with the saddest look on his face.  
And Taekwoon broke, fate be damned, and he hurried to tell Jaehwan that no, no he didn’t hate him at all, as he pressed his lips against Jaehwan’s over and over again.

And when a week after Taekwoon was pressing Jaehwan onto the mattress of his bed, pushing himself into Jaehwan, warm mouths on warm skin, their fingers entwined, he saw their thread wrap itself tightly around both their wrists.  
He stared at it, and when Jaehwan asked him why he was smiling, he just kissed him, mumbling about losing battles and being uselessly stubborn.


End file.
